


Paparazzi

by DestinedforDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, Bottom Dean, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human AU, Irony HAHAHA, Luxury, M/M, Masquerade dance, Paparazzi!Dean, Possessive Behavior, Rape, Rough Sex, Seduction, Top Alistair, Top Castiel, Top Michael, Twisted Mind, everyone wants dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinedforDestiel/pseuds/DestinedforDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a paparazzi on a mission to take pro shots of New York's top four richest men. Part of being a paparazzi is you MUSTN'T get caught, so when Dean is unlucky, the consequences might drop him in an awkward situation of luxury, twisted thoughts, and the center of a battle on who should win his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a great thought while listening to Paparazzi by Lady Gaga and I was like OMYGOD Gotta put it down! So this is the first chapter/prologue and at the end should I continue?

_click! Snap!_

Beautiful vibrant green eyes peeked from behind a fair sized black photographer camera, glinting a reflection of excitement by the shot takeen. A young man, no older than 24, smiled brightly, giving his face that had the perfect amount of freckles dashed on his nose and his beautifully carved jaw structure more desirable beauty. Quickly, he scrambled off his stomach and onto his knees so that his perfect rump sat fittingly on his ankles. He chuckled as he observed the photo he had just taken with satisfaction. It was a beautiful shot of a black and blue butterfly resting on a small flower a few feet from his position. He had taken a great shot at the nick of time before it had decided to take its leave and sore high above the skyscraper buildings. 

"Haha! Beautiful as always, Dean Winchester! You are so ready for this," the young man said confidently to himself. Quickly, he- as in Dean- jumped to his feet and brushed the grass from his denim jeans and black shirt, and briskly jogged away from the local park. Down the busy streets of New York he went, dodging traffic which earned him a honk of a horn or a shout of "Watch it moron!"  _  
_

Still, he kept his confident smile. He was so ready, he could feel his veins jumping from his skin. Sweat of perspiration beaded down his eyebrow, but he quickly wiped it away once in a while. He was not going to sweat out his readiness. Dean jogged for another block before he came to a stop at a towering structure of the Daily News Incorporation; his work and his life. Yes, he spent day by day as a fairly paid paparazzi. If he was good enough- which he was positive he was then his pics would end up on the big bucks. Nation/Celebrity magazines. 

A paparazzi could only dream and accomplish their dream like that. Dean has been working his ass off to do so. His boss, Bobby, had heard Dean tell him so many times to give him a shot, yet Bobby said it could be too risky. Dean didn't blame him. One of their own lost their lives while trying to get a shot of Justin Beiber. But it didn't stop Dean from begging. 

His whole career of being a photographer encouraged him to head to a much distant goal. Being 'just' a photographer sounded too dull. Now being a  _paparazzi s_ ounded more.... daring. Epic. Adrenaline rushing. 

Dean was an adrenaline junkie from hell and back. 

Today was the day he was going to be opened to a new set of adrenaline.

As he stopped at the door of his work, he paused for a moment and whispered firmly to himself. "Okay, Dean, this is your only shot. Don't fuck this up..." Taking one last heavy breath, he popped his chest in a more taller stance to show confidence and marched into the building. The first thing his eyes met was the first floor workroom with dividers and small cubbies for people to do their work in personal space. The sweet soumds of the phones ringing off and on soothed him like a montage. 

"Yes can I help you?-"

'No sir, we're out of those copies-"

"Let me see what we can do for you-"

"Sports Magazine? Wait one sec sir-" 

Co-workers voices sounded in rythm with the phones going off, which Dean felt soothed by. Work was just like home. Not the rapid phones ringing, but just in the aroma. Ink, papers, hard work, and just the casual air he was used to. As he strode down the isles, he got a few polite gazes and smiles from close co-works, and got sort of rude annoyed ones. Not everyone enjoyed him, as they thought he was Bobby's favorite. Dean smirked at his 'haters' and made it to an opening elevator before pushing the top floor button. 

As he felt the stomach turning movement of the elevator box going up, then the sound of terrible elevator music. His mind was buzzing and his legs started to tremble with anxious desire. Dean gazed down at his boots with a strong game face. "Just go and tell him, Dean. Do it, your not a baby damnit!..." 

As the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to a large office room, Dean glared straight with a fierce determined look in his eyes. 

"Your a fucking paparazzi," he growled. 

A man at the end of the room, dressed in a suit and tie that hardly suited his pudgy complexion, turned around and smiled at the young man storming towards him in proper steps. "Ah! Deanny boy! How are you?" he chirped. Dean gave a small smile, but kept his fire look. "Morning, Uncle Bobby." 

Yup, Bobby, head of the Corparation was Dean Winchester's uncle. 

"You doing well, lad? Hm, love the look this morning, need to talk about something?" 

Dean stopped at the foot of the desk, his face going recked with nearvousness. He felt himself gulp and heat engulf him. "Uh... Y-yes, Bobby, I-I must talk to you about something very important. It is good that you um, please listen," he stammered. Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Really. Okay, since you are acting a bit off, I'll listen to whatever you need to say." 

Both he and Dean sat down and Dean began. 

"Uncle, I have been working here for a pretty long while, correct?" 

"Yes. Four years." 

"And three months and three days, this counting as the fourth day." 

"Understood." 

Dean clasped his hands together and shuffled his feet. "Well, err... would it be too much to ask if I move up a step?" 

"A promotion?' 

Dean shook his head. "No. No, not exactly, no. It's more like a promising career I am ready for." 

Bobby toyed with a pin on his desk. Uh-huh. So like a promotion?" 

Dean grew frustrated. "Uncle, no. It is just another career." 

"Okay, and what is this 'career' exactly." 

Dean stammered for a bit and cleared his throat, rubbing his now cold thighs. He could feel sweat dripping everywhere off him as he internally fought his words out. Bobby rolled his eyes. "Dean, kiddo, spit it out idjit," he groaned. Dean bit his lip, sucked in a breath, and quickly exclaimed, "I wanna be a paparazzi!" 

...

Bobby stared at him for a long moment with a half shocked complexion, and Dean felt like he already fucked up. Great. 

Dean bit his lip harder in a sudden embarrassed manner. "U-Uncle?" he strained out, ready to hear the worse. Bobby studied him a second longer, then stood. Dean felt his hope fade slowly, afraid Bobby was going to yell or walk away. He might do both. Instead, Bobby walked to his side and placed a soft hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked up at his uncle and gullped. There was no anger detected in Bobby's eyes, but there was questioning gestures dancing in those orbs. 

"Why, Dean? Is this what you really want? You're so young," the man said softly. Dean was shocked. Obliterated. "W-what? Are you giving me decision?" he sputtered. Bobby sighed. "Not really, but are you giving me one?" he questioned. Dean was confused. He knitted his eyebrows together. "I-I don't think I understand, Uncle..." 

"Well, Dean I can't force you to not do this if it is your dream. That would be torture and I am not like that. I'm not like your daddy." 

Dean sighed. Yes, Bobby was way different from his father, John. John had never let Dean do as he wished. He wanted Dean to be something else like a farmer or a store clerk, nothing more. When Dean tried to do as he wished, the punishment was very painful and Dean still bares the scars until this day and forevermore. At the age of Eighteen, Dean ran away with his younger brother Sam and they landed in New York. They eventually found Bobby and when Dean begged for a job, Bobby did not hesitate to give him a spot in the Corp. Almost instantly, Dean grew facinated by the works of photography and became deticated to the job. 

Sam, on the other hand, wished to be a lawyer and moved off to Stanford. Dean was hurt that his little brother left him, but he had came to have his job and Bobby as comfort. Now here was a shot to get in the bigger bucks of paparazzi and meet cool famous people. This had yet was the biggest accomplishment- or it will be. 

Dean nodded. "I know, Bobby. But yes, I want to do this... I am ready, I can manage. If I let you down, then you can decide then whether I should stay in that spot." 

Bobby stared at him with unsire eyes. Dean pleaded, "Please, I beg of you, Uncle. Just let me get my feet wet and like I said, if it doesn't work out, you can take action." 

... 

Bobby thought a second longer, the rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine Dean," said him in defeat. Dean's face enlightened with a wide smile and he jumped from the chair. "Really?! So I can!?" 

Bobby nodded with a small smile of his own. Dean made a squeal (don't ask why cuz he doesn't know) and embraced his uncle. "Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou, Uncle! You're the best!" he said with overflowing gratefulness. Bobby stiffened and patted his nephew's back , getting a little flustered and annoyed. "Okay, okay Dean," he said before pulling Dean away by the shoulder's to look him strictly in the eye. Bobby pointed his index finger under Dean's nose. "But you get one shot only Dean. Don't screw it up," he said strictly. Dean did not hesitate to nod. 

"Yes sirr." 

Bobby sighed and pulled Dean in another hug. He knew that what he was allowing his nephew to do was very risky. Some celeberties, local or not had bad temper; the last thing they would want is some young man with a camera to snap shots of their privacy. Plus, Dean could be trampled on during a chase or could die trying to get the right photo. All this overwhelmed the leader of the Corp. with worry. He was letting his own blood do this... 

He just hopes he will not regret. "Goodness, you be careful, Idjit," he whispered. Dean smiled, hugging his uncle back just as tight. "I will, I will... thank you for allowing me to do this, Uncle. It means a lot," he replied. 

Once the two seperated, Dean batted his eyes at Bobby with an innocent smile. "Sooo~...? Can I start?" 

"You already have your special people to capture?" 

Dean nodded. "Yup! I'm doing a series of the four richest men here in New York. The first guy is Alistair Browley," he exclaimed. Bobby's eyes lightened. "Wow. Thinking big already... well okay, go ahead and get busy." Dean did another happy jump and turned his heel, rushing to the elevator. "Bye, Bobby!" he hollered. 

Bobby watched his nephew dance in the elevator until the doors blocked his sight.  Then there was a cheer echoing from behind, making the bearded man smile bright. "Oh dear Lord, give me strength." 

* * *

Dean sat at his house, at his desk, holding up different kinds of papers he had printed online. They were all about Alistair Browley. At first, nearly an hour ago, he felt like all will be done quickly; he knew his idea of how to get a shot taken, and he knew where to get it... sorta. Now here he was, with a blank head. He grew frustrated. This was harder than he thought. How could he have missed major steps to getting the perfect shot. 

#1- know your target. Some might be temper headed. They might have a complexed house. Where do they usually go for daily activities? What is a common place? 

 #2- What is the most unnoticed, yet, outstanding area to take the perfect picture. There must not be no people to spot you or no noticable sign that your target might look over. It is New York so hell yeah it would be hard. 

And #3- (the most important thing) try not to get caught. If you do get caught, it has to at least be right after you takr the photo. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair with a tired huff. "This is gonna be a little more difficult," he murmered. He went to his laptop. Okay so far he has learned a few things about Mr. Alistair: 

. He is rich of coarse

. Has no wife or children 

. Head leader of the major buisness companies that made deals to settle his factories in making weapons. 

. He had a rough childhood due to uneducated, drunk parents. 

. Ew, he had an anger problem at the age of thirteen, but settled it out with therapy. 

. And he lives in one of New York's finest hotel's 'The Batchelor.' (Misleading name) 

Dean rubbed his chin, then looked up the New York Scheduel. His eyes scanned the screen until he found something he could surely use. 

_** Here today at 8:00 pm is the start of New York's big annual Masquerade Dance at the Entertain Center. 5 days of party time! Please we would like to have your company for the night. It is from 8-12. Bring your mask and get your boogy on! **_

_** Entry: 15$  ** _

Dean smiled to himself. Bingo. From what he heard, if it is 'annual' then surely the big shots would be present there. 

"Well, Dean Winchester. Time to get you boogy on." He said with a smirk. 


	2. Masquerade Ball Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only day one and Dean runs into a certain being underneath a dark grey mask with red lining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys for the long update! Lemme know if this is good for ya please!

_"Judy Mayors hear tonight at this lovely building, giving you the close up of what some are missing!"_

A large crowd of- so far- over 90 civilians gathered in a thick line in front of a large white building. Each of the persons were dressed in what seemed to be their finest. Some of the people had partners of each gender and we were by themselves, having the thought of being chosen by a figure who were willing to dance or chat with them. But other than that, the one thing they all had in common were nobody but the soul some were known to had no idea who his under, for each had a small or big mask on as the letter in the calander had inquired. 

This  _was_ a Masquerade Ball. 

Each mask made a person mysterious and unknown, which made the fun slightly better; for all anyone knew, the person they were standing by could have acne on their face or an eyebrow missing or something. For all anyone knew, the person they were standing by could be their worse enemy and they did not even think of it. 

In front of the large crowd, a few news reporters stood by and filmed the citizens' excitement. Tonight was the start of a week long party filled with mystery and enjoyment. 

But for Dean, this was all business. 

As he pulled over in his Impala-  _Baby,_ he named it, he took a pausing moment to gaze at what he was about to go into. It would be his first time actually stepping into these kind of things and by the first look at it, he felt a queasy feeling. First night as a rookie paparazzi. Fuckin amazing... Yet scary. What if he gets caught? What if he fucks up somehow and become a complete embarrassment to the whole corp! What if he fails Bobby and blows his entire career!? That means going back to being dull photographer Winchester. 

Dean sighed and counted in his head to cool his senses. "You got this, you got this..." 

After ten more seconds, he dug into a bag and pulled out a beautifully emerald mask with black designs; black swirls came from the mask's corners to encircle the eye holes. The mask had curve tips and the beautiful green matched Dean's eyes and his black tux he had bought a few hours ago. Dean placed the mask on and tied the black ribbon across his head before gazing seductively into the mirror.... 

 _Wait?... Seductively?... What?_! 

* * *

After paying the night fee and stepping inside, Dean's eyes immediately widened at the sight of the large area filled with people- some on the dance floor and some at the bar. But this was bigger than he expected. A quarter of the city was in this one building. Plus, this was creating a lot of body heat. 

 Dean felt all eyes on him for some reason, and he could not tell if it was just his imagination or not. Hopefully no one would take him as a paparazzi. Was it really a big deal for everyone besides his target? The people only care of the shit you write for their entertainment true or not. Still, Dean wished not getting caught snapping pictures with the built in camera he places in one of his buttons, making him like some spy. 

Just one click of the button in his palm, then it would snap an HD power shotnin half a second, with no blur best of all. 

Dean looked around in the  crowd, trying to sight target any of the New York's greatest alive. Sadly, the masked people made it impossible to spot. Dean groaned. They could be standing  _near_ him and he would not know! 

Maybe they have not arrived? 

How would he tell, clearly it was like everyone had a fucking twin! 

Dean searched for a few more moments, then thought a new plan as he gazed at the bar that stood near the door entry. A smirk curled upon his lips. Hm, a drink and work? Can't deny can he? 

Swiftly, he parted from the cloud and took an empty seat at the near empty bar. Behind the counter was a fairly short handsome and was cleaning a glass casually. Dean smiled warmly and waved the man over. "Um, hey you! Um... Errr..." Dean struggled. 

"Balthazar," the man huffed with a sly smirk and thick husky accent. 

"Yeah... Balthazar," Dean murmured trying out the name on his lips, "two shots for now?" 

"Is that a question, Beautiful?" 

Dean felt heat run to his face at the name and choked a bit on his air. He was still trying to get used to such things, but it still felt like a new thing. "Er, no, I-I don't think so?" he babbled like an idiot. Balthazar bellowed a laughter and brought out the two shots before passing them to Dean. 

"Well, since you are so adorable flustered and all, these are on the house," the bartender stated. Dean was speechless. He must look like a complete idiot. "Um... Thank you?" 

So then, Dean downed his shots and ordered two more, this time paying. Finally, Balthazar had got the courage to ask, "So what is a sweet thing like you doing in this marvelous place all by yourself?" 

Dean looked away at the door entry. "Ah, just... Business," he replied. Balthazar raised an encouraging eyebrow. "What kind of business?" he pushed. 

Dean quickly thought of an excuse.  _"Oh, why I am a paparazzi here to take dramatic photos and right down some embarrassing or righteous shit about famous people!"_ Yeah the fuck right. The paparazzi pursed his lips. 

"Um... Um... I'm a traveler. I seek adventure to great places and ended up in New York!" he chirped. Balthazar seemed to surprisingly buy it, in fact his eye glimmered in awe. 

"Really?! Wow, must be amazing! So?..." 

"So what?"

Balthazar nudged Dean on the shoulder. "So where have you traveled so far?" 

In instant seconds, Dean's satisfied face dropped by degrees and his cleverness disappeared. He began to stammer over his own words. So he improvised. "Um... The Great... Pyramids Of... Egypt." 

Balthazar stared at the younger man blankly and Dean felt like he had just. Fucking. FAILED. What is the point of being a paparazzi if you cannot even lie?! Dean gulped. 

Suddenly, Balthazar shook his head with a chuckle. "I'm a bartender, not a geography teacher. Sounds amazing either way Mister um... Err...." 

Dean was familiar to the search of a name, and  _Beautiful_ was not one he would prefer being called.  _Better tell him your name Winchester before he asks you about Egypt._

 _"Dean!_ " he blurted out. Balthazar paused quizzically. "My name is Dean," Dean repeated more calmly. Balthazar smiled. "Well, Dean. You are a very interesting man," he said with a wink, making Dean blush. The guy was a flirt, but hey, he was only a bartender. Dean smiled back. "Same for yourself, Balthazar." Dean saw Balthazar's smile grow, but then fade to a frown as he eyes traveled above Dean's head.

" _Excuse me, young man, but I could not help but notice you sitting here all alone on this fine night,"_ a sudden voice spoke from behind Dean.  Dean was startled and quickly turned in his seat to see a towering figure above him, wearing a grey tux and a dark grey mask with red lining, and was smiling in a flirtatious way at Dean. 

Dean cleared his throat. "Um, yes I'm alone, but I'm good," he said. The man only smiled brighted. "Oh, come on, this is such a lovely place, dear. Why not step with me, I can be your partner," he crooned. Dean felt his stomach flutter. He had never danced with anyone, let alone a man before. 

And this guy was interested in him? Wouldn't that be a waste of time. The younger man gazed at the door than back at the tall guy. What if one of his targets walked in? What if he misses his chance? Dean had not realized he was thinking to long ad the unknown man cleared his throat. 

"What do you say, Rose?" 

Dean was baffled by the nickname given to him by the grey masked man as he was with Balthazar, but sighed. He did not know what possessed him to reach out and take the hand that he didn't know was being held out to him. Grey Mask pulled Dean off from the seat and began leading him to the dance floor, when Dean felt Balthazar tug him back lightly by the sleeve. 

Dean was confused, and Grey Mask grew frustrated by the bartender. "Dean, don't," Balthazar hissed. Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Why? What's wrong Balthazar?" he murmured. Balthazar had desperation in his eyes. "He's..." 

Before the short man could finish, Dean felt another hand wrap around Balthazar's wrist and force his hand from Dean's. Of was Grey Mask, and he did not look too amused. "I suggest you find your own partner,  _Bar Boy,"_ Grey Mask snarled. Balthazar clenched his teeth but held his temper. 

Dean felt himself be pulled away with curiosity bugging his mind as he gazed apologetically into Balthazar's sad eyes. "I'm sorry," Dean mouthed before he saw the bar and bartender dissapear in the crowd. Dean sighed in confusion; what was Balthazar trying to tell him? Dean gazed up at Grey Mask who had his focus on trying to find an open spot on the fairly crowded dance floor. Good, that way he did not have to see Dean's bashful gaze that wandered to Grey Mask's hand enveloping the shorter man's hand in a tender yet firm grip. Dean could not help but swallow thickly. 

He had not been this... communicative in a physical way towards a being- a man, to the fact before. It was sorta uncomfortable, even though Dean was sorta... Bisexual, turns out. Just now, in fact, cuz damn did this feel good. His mind filled with odd thoughts and pleasure. It felt so  _fucking_ good that Dean had forgotten about his mission. He didn't know if it was the due cause of the shots of liquor earlier or the fact that the firmness of Grey Mask's fairly cold hand brought a sudden sense of unintended... desire for more touch. 

Dean wiggled his hand a bit, only to regain the attention from Grey Mask, who smirked delightfully and stopped at an empty spot, clear in the dance floor. Dean felt eyes on him for some reason and grey nervous. 

"Don't be shy, Rose," Alistair purred, pulling Dean's beautiful green eyes to the taller man's desire, "dancing is a way to express passion and  _touch_ ,."

Dean nearly squeaked at- not only the last word that rolled off of Grey Mask's tongue, but also when a strong long arm coiled around the lower part of his back and around his waist, pulling the two bodies against each other like a quick snap. If Dean was not so much flustered with humongous nervousness, he would have yanked away and ran, but Grey Mask's dark bullet green eyes had him pinned. Like a robot, Dean allowed Grey Mask to grab his other hand and pull it to a position half in the air while Dean automatically placed the other hand on the masked man's broad shoulder. Grey Mask looked rather pleased and pulled Dean even closer. Dean felt their crotches brush together, but quickly hindered his temptation to get hard for a stranger. He took the chance to slowly run his thumb along the taller man's shoulder blade...

A  _strong_ stranger to the exact. 

Just as Dean was about to question his decision to dance with Grey Mask, a rhythm started and he was spun in a degree. Dean made a yelp at the action and when he was pulled against Grey Mask's broad chest, he clung onto the man like he was a life line. Dean looked up at Grey Mask's amused eyes like a child that just seen the monster under their bed. Grey Mask Tsked him teasingly and brought Dean back up in a straight, more confident position. "Oh, Dove," Grey Mask sighed, "so much to learn."

Dean had finally got to the line of where he was tired of playing the shy teenage girl and smirked for the first time seeing Grey Mask. "We'll then," he purred, "I see you got a lot to teach, hm?" Grey Mask grinned and began to move with Dean in a swaying motion as willow trees would. To be honest, Dean had to say he was probably a damn natural at dancing, pointing to the fact that he was a fast learner. Grey Mask was simply impressed. "My, my, we're you only teasing me to think you weren't so graceful on your feet, Rose?" 

Dean snorted, "I um... I dunno I guess I'm fast on my feet. Used to dance when I was little, but it wasn't these types of dance." He smirked. "Maybe you make it a little too easy for me." 

Before Dean knew it, he was suddenly twirled around, Then wrapped around his lower back and  _dipped._

 _Damn,_ he thought,  _didn't know my back was a fucking slinky._

The was swiftly yanked back up directly in front of Grey Mask's 'Anymore challenges?' face. Dean felt his hot breath ghosting over his mouth and nose and felt his face heat up quickly. Oh God, now he was blushing?! He had to admit... these firm arms were... exhilarating. Dean breathed breathlessly, staring into Grey Mask's eyes in awe and... nervousness. If he didn't know better, Dean would think they were about to kiss. 

Oh shit.

Grey Mask ignored the light claps around them and crooned, "Anyone ever tell you that your eyes are mighty beautiful as you?" 

Dean turned 3x redder and sputtered. This guy only knew him by eyes, hair, and lips, nothing else. But damn him if he was pleased to hear that. "Um... n-no, not that I, um, know of?" 

Grey Mask chuckled. "Well. It is an honor to be the first." 

Dean stared at him for a moment longer, Then hesitantly moved himself from the arm that still held his waist. "Um... thank you. I had... fun," he said shakily with a smile. Grey Mask nodded and bowed politely. "No, Dove, thank  _you_ ," he purred, grabbing Dean's hand and giving the paparazi's knuckles a small peck of his lips. Dean shuffled his feet. This was odd and uncomfortable to do around a crowd; Grey Mask must be very... tough. 

Dean waved. "Um. Goodbye, sir," he chirped, but before he could run off, the taller man slipped something in his hand. Dean stared at him quizzical, but Grey Mask only smiled in return. "Dinner, you and I, Friday at seven at the Diner? I'll pay," he said. It sounded more like a requirement than a request and Dean could have said "Hell no". 

But he didn't. Instead he was tripping over his own words like an idiot. Clearly this guy gets what he wants often. Rare and common. Before Dean could answer, the man walked away in straight posture. Dean tried to holler, "But, wait- how will I know who you are?-..." 

Damn. 

Finally Dean took a chance to look at the paper in his hand. His eyes widen and his mouth dropped to his feet. 

_Are. You. FUCKING. serious?_

There, on the damn card that damn mystery guy gave him, had the  _damn_ information that read: 

**_Browley Weapons Inc._ **

**_Alistair Browley_ **

**_Phone #: 1-881- BROWLEY_ **

**_Call if you have any questions, need of assistance, etc._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll fuck a duck! XD 
> 
> Lemme know lemme know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Short, but later chapters will be longer. Should I go on? Tell me your thoughts and kudos! Things will get sexy I promise you. Next chapter will be Alistair/Dean.


End file.
